Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Saving Mom from Celine Dion

The Mom recently developed an appreciation for the shrill hollering of Celine Dion. As a son, I felt obligated to cure her of this unhealthy addiction before it turned her brain to goo.

So I made an effort to spontaneously sing Celine tunes at every opportunity. I'd match her style as closely as possible, alternating between barely audible whispers and flat-out yelling. Mom would hear me whispering and her ears would perk up, and then I'd belt out a tremendous whoop and she'd jump right out of her skin.

"can you hear me whispering now?
i am whispering quietly now
come a little closer so you can
hear me whisperin'.....
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOOOOOOOOVEEEE?
BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!
BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH
BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOOOOOOOOVE?"

I'd do this repeatedly and at random locations, so she'd never know when to expect it. We'd be in a restaurant having lunch, and then I'd start talking in a low whisper.

"Excuse me?" Mom would say, forgetting that she had almost swerved off the road when I pulled the gag on her in the car TWENTY MINUTES EARLIER. She'd lean closer, trying to hear what I was saying, and then: